


Crossing the Streams

by Stakebait



Series: Uncovered and other stories [7]
Category: White Collar
Genre: BDSM, Dildos, F/M, Handcuffs, M/M, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-19 14:21:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stakebait/pseuds/Stakebait
Summary: Peter Burke used to keep his relationships with Elizabeth and Neal completely separate, but now each is starting to impact the other—at least in fantasy.





	

Peter Burke is a little bit of a control freak. But that's okay, because he has it under control. 

It comes out in little things though. Like, when Peter finally asks Neal to fuck him, instead of the other way around, he doesn't just want to try, he wants it to work, the first time. 

He knows beyond doubt that Neal would be patient, and gentle, and stop the second Peter asked him to—but Peter is not so sanguine about getting him started again. He practically had to arm wrestle the man into accepting a blow job, for god's sake. 

So “be prepared” is the watchword of the day. That works for Peter. He's good at thorough. He's good at taking his time. If he's honest with himself, this is not the first time that the anticipation of waiting for Neal has made fulfillment all the sweeter. That first arrest, after such a long chase... But this time, he promises himself, it will be worth the wait for Caffrey too. 

And that's how Peter Burke, who never much considered himself a sex toy kind of guy, ended up with an assortment of dildos that could get him busted in Texas for intent to distribute. 

He starts small—he always starts small—and the first few times that's where he ended too, picturing Neal's skillful pickpocket fingers that can slide in anywhere. But he's gotten more ambitious as he gets into the rhythm of it, his toys laid out on the coverlet, already covered with condoms, so he can quickly slick the next size up with lube and keep going without losing momentum. 

He's never actually made it to the one that's as thick as Neal's cock, not yet. Soon, he hopes. For now, he sometimes sucks it while he fucks himself with the smaller silicone shape that's the most he can manage so far. It's silk over hard, like Neal, but it's too cool and too smooth, and even when Peter is stretched on the edge of pain and pleasure and full to bursting, it still feels a little empty. 

Peter has seen, online, a company that will make you an exact copy of your lover's cock, veins and all, and Peter surprises himself with how urgently he wants that: a piece of Neal that he he can keep, always, and will always be hard and ready and waiting. And as a forger, he thinks Neal might get a kick out of being copied for once. But there's seriously no way he can ask without spoiling the surprise. 

He imagines it, though, what it would be like to take Neal's cock in every hole at once. He wonders if Neal would choose to ride his mouth and leave him to fuck himself with the dildo or the other way around. 

Peter's got the angle just right now, hitting the sweet spot with every stroke. He's shamelessly humping the pillow under his hips, and imagining Neal's voice saying "Peter, come for me," is enough to send him over the brink with a muffled groan of Neal's name. 

Afterward Peter feels boneless and glowing, like he's been lying in the sun. He slowly and carefully extracts the toy from his ass. One of the many reasons he wants to do this for real is that surely once Neal comes inside him—Peter shudders through an aftershock at the thought—extracting his softened cock is bound to be easier than this. He strips the condom off the toy, tosses it into the trash, and rolls over to do the same with the one he's wearing—a lesson learned after his first round of emergency laundry. 

Elizabeth is watching from the doorway. Part of Peter feels like he should startle, apologize, sweep away the evidence, but his languorous body just refuses to produce the adrenaline, and that gives him a long enough moment to realize that Elizabeth is panting a little. She's biting her lower lip and teasing one of her nipples through the silk of her shift. 

Peter smiles up at her, shifting over on the bed and patting the space next to him to indicate that she should come join him. 

"Hon," she says, "that was amazing." 

Peter gives her a sleepy smile. "Been home for a while, huh?" 

Elizabeth shimmies out of her dress and Peter's breath still catches after all this time. Damn, she's beautiful. How did he get so lucky? 

She toes off her heels and climbs into bed next to him in her bra and panties. 

"The bride and her mom had a huge fight and she stormed out of the tasting," she explains. "We never got past appetizers." 

"I'm sorry, honey," Peter says supportively. 

Elizabeth shrugs. "They still have to pay, and now we have cheesecake. I'm calling it a win. And," she adds, snuggling in against him, "if they hadn't, I would have missed one hell of a show." 

"You liked it?" Peter prompts, nuzzling her near breast. 

"I loved it," she confirms. "Whenever I picture you with Neal, it was always the other way around. Seeing you like that... wow." 

Peter makes a mental note that Elizabeth had been picturing him and Neal together. 

"We do that too," he assures her. "Actually we usually do. This will be...something special." 

Elizabeth pulls the crotch of her lacy panties aside and begins rubbing her clit in slow circles. "You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable with," Elizabeth tells him, clearly hoping he wouldn't take her up on the offer of an out. 

"I don't have any secrets from you," he says, pulling down the cup of her bra and nibbling on her nipple. 

"Neal wouldn't mind?" 

Peter chuckles. "Neal's a bit of an exhibitionist," he says. "He won't mind me telling you. Hell, I'm pretty sure he'd be happy to show you." 

A soft moan from Elizabeth indicates interest in this possibility—or at least in imagining it. 

"Peter," Elizabeth says in a voice gone husky. "Can I?" Her hand gesture indicates the toy he'd used.

Peter gestures in turn at the rest of his unused toys. "Are you sure you don't want something larger?" He hopes she'll go for the Neal-sized one; something about the idea of Peter spreading her lips for Neal to slide between really does it for him—for his brain, anyway, his dick is still obstinately unresponsive. 

Elizabeth shakes her head, though. "I want the one that was inside you," she says, so he covers it with a fresh condom, and she slides it home with a squelching noise that tells Peter just how wet and ready she'd gotten watching him. Peter takes over rubbing her clit just the way she likes it while she fucks herself with the dildo. 

Peter breathes into her ear, "is it still Neal, fucking you like he did me?" And then has a minute to wonder if he's gone too far with the fantasy before she kisses him hard. 

"I love you, Peter Burke," she says, and then, "would you like that?" 

"To watch Neal fuck you? Yeah, I would," Peter realizes as he says it. Maybe it's just the golden afterglow, but Peter seems to have misplaced whatever jealousy or insecurity he once possessed. 

"I could do this," he says, sucking her nipple into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, "and he could do the other one. And we'd meet in the middle to kiss." In his imagination it's an oddly sweet, long, tender kiss, while Neal's cock drives into Elizabeth over and over. 

"Or maybe," he suggests, kissing down her beautiful gently rounded belly, "I could do this while he fucks you from behind," and he starts licking her clit above the dildo Elle is still fucking herself with. 

"I don't believe you," said Elizabeth, between a laugh and a moan. "There's no way...you could be so close...to Neal's balls and not lick them." 

She has a point. "I could take turns," he says, as well as he can with his mouth full. 

"Peter!" She says on a gasp. "Come up here. Hold me. Please." 

He can do that. He crawls back up beside her and wraps his arm around her waist. 

"It's not Neal," she says in a strained voice, and he knows she's close. "Not exactly. It's your cock in me. And his cock in you... so every time he thrusts into you... I feel it. And you come inside me when you say his name." 

She comes herself as she says it, shuddering in Peter's firm embrace. 

He strokes her hair through three aftershocks until she lies quiet in his arms, then kisses the nape of her neck. 

"Hon, Elle, Elizabeth," he murmurs tenderly, because something about her wanting him to say Neal's name makes him want to say hers, so she knows she's not ever an afterthought. "You are incredible."

She rolls over to look into his eyes. "Right back at you," she says playfully. 

"And some day," Peter says, "when we're both dressed and in our right minds, you will tell me if you want any of that to happen for real." 

"All right," Elizabeth agrees. "As long as you promise to tell me if you don't. " 

"I promise," says Peter, "but I don't think it's gonna be a problem. I know what I want." 

"So do I," says Elizabeth. "Cheesecake!" 

Peter laughs. He gets out of bed, scooping his toys into their plastic bin and snapping the lid tight so Satchmo can't get at them—he'll deal with the clean up later—then pulls on a pair of faded flannel pajama pants and tosses Elle the matching top to wear. 

"I'll be back with two forks," he promises, "before you have a chance to miss me."  

*********************

Some Tuesdays, Peter and Neal like to go out. Eat a meal, have a drink, see a movie and hold hands in the dark, be a normal couple out in the world and pretend they're not worrying about who might see them.

This isn't one of those Tuesdays. This is the other kind, where Neal can barely make it up the stairs at June's before shedding his clothes. It's not even the sex—okay, it's the sex. But not _just_ the sex. After hours and days of being so close to Peter and not able to touch him, Neal's skin is hungry, he wants to bury his nose in Peter's collarbone and inhale the scent of him, to get Peter naked and straddle his ass and give him the best fucking back rub of his life until he finally gives in and goes boneless underneath Neal, and Neal can admire the magnificent play of his shoulders in repose.

So they do that. And finally Neal rolls off him and lies tracing lazy patterns on Peter's hip and thigh. Right as Peter is wondering if he should make a move before he falls asleep....

"Peter, do you know what a cock ring is?" Neal asks.

Peter's rolls over onto his side, brow wrinkled. "It sounds pretty self-explanatory?"

Neal laughs. "Yeah, it's pretty much what it says on the box. Except you can put it around the balls too."  


"And you want me to wear one?"  


"No," says Neal, and then backtracks. "I mean, maybe, sure, if you want to. Could be fun. But I meant—would you put one on me?"  


"Why?" Peter asks, curiously. "I thought they were for guys who need a little help keeping it up." He didn't need to add that that is not one of Neal Caffrey's problems.  


"They can be," Neal agrees. "But mostly it just makes everything...more. Bigger, harder, more intense. Longer lasting. It's harder to come while wearing one. Sometimes it hurts to come. And some guys can't come at all."  


"Can you?" Peter asks.  


Neal shrugs. "I don't know. I've never done this before. But I saw a picture I thought was hot."  


"Show me," says Peter. Of all the hundreds of best things about being with Peter, Neal thinks, that moment when he slips from conversation to giving orders and doesn't even notice is one of the hottest.  


Obediently Neal reaches over to the nightstand where the laptop is already cued up to a faceless closeup of a man's cock and balls with a handcuff around them.  


"Yes," says Peter, with feeling.  


Neal grins. He'd figured there was no place Peter Burke did not want to cuff Neal Caffrey. It's good to be right.  


Peter sits up and reaches for his cuffs—and it says a lot about their relationship that they are in easy reach and not looped through his discarded belt, where his pants lie over a chair halfway across the room.  


Neal is already half-hard from Peter's voice alone. Peter manhandling his cock and balls into one of the cuffs—and Neal loves that he doesn't even try to be gentle—pretty well finishes the job.  


Peter stares at Neal's now fully engorged cock in its prison with fascination. "Does it hurt?" he asks.  


"A little," Neal admits.  


"Good," says Peter, and Neal's eyes practically roll back in his head. If there is anything hotter that Peter getting off on hurting him, Neal doesn't know what it is.  


"Do you want it to hurt more?"  


"Yessss," Neal breathes. Peter knows him so well.  


Peter shakes his head. "You'll have to do better than that," he says.  


"Please, Peter," Neal begs, working his hips even though there's nothing to push against, because he can't help it.  


"Please what?"  


"Tighten it. Hurt me. Please."  


With a look of great concentration, as if he were cracking a safe, Peter leans in and clicks the cuff a few notches tighter, until Neal sucks in an involuntary breath, then nods, satisfied.  


This was as far as Neal's fantasy had gone, mostly because he'd come into his own fist at that point. He'd vaguely thought Peter might fuck him, but Peter has other ideas. He catches the dangling cuff—which hadn't featured in the photo, they must have cut it off or something—and snaps it around Neal's right wrist. Loosely, by comparison, but not so much that he could slip out of it.  


Peter takes Neal's cuffed hand and places it firmly on Neal's own cuffed cock. "Jerk yourself off," he directs.  


"Peter, you're evil," Neal says admiringly, doing as he's told.  


With every stroke the cuff strains, tugging on his balls. Peter watches the show, lazily stroking his own erection, but not with any serious intent.  


"Stop," he says, after a few minutes.  


Neal's hand freezes instantly on his cock, but he doesn't let go-Peter hadn't told him to.  


"This isn't working," Peter says. "You don't care enough about getting yourself off to really pull hard."  


Peter crawls up the bed until he's lying next to Neal, his own erection cradled in the hollow of Neal's hip. Peter takes Neal's cuffed hand and transfers it from Neal's cock to his own. "So you'll just have to jerk me off instead."  


Neal groans. There are hazards to fucking the man who knows you better than anyone else in the world. Getting his hands—or his mouth—on Peter's cock is like the first chisel stroke of a block of marble that will become a masterpiece; it's the closest thing to worship that Neal knows. There is no way that pain or anything else would dissuade Neal from giving Peter the best hand job he could.  


Peter pins Neal's other wrist to the bed, increasing the urgency of Neal's whimpers. Neal buries his face in Peter's shoulder, pressing his whole body into Peter's to get an inch more slack in the chain. His cock, slick with precum, slides against Peter's belly.  


Neal works Peter's cock one handed with every skill he possesses, giving thanks for every pocket he's ever picked and every card he's ever palmed. He grunts whenever the chain catches his stroke up short and causes the tight metal edges of the cuff to bite into his balls and the base of his shaft.  


Peter is thrusting into Neal's fingers now, muttering "oh yeah, just like that." Neal wonders what the hell more he can do in this position to send him over the edge, but it turns out Peter has that covered.  


"Look at me," Peter commands. When Neal meets his eyes, Peter says, "one of these days I'm going to cuff you like this and lock you to my bedpost so you can watch me get Elle off over and over. If you're good I'll let you drink my come from her cunt. And then I'll leave you like that while we fall asleep."  


With a groan Peter's own fantasy takes him over the edge, spattering hot cum into Neal's hand and up onto his stomach.  


Neal is panting, biting his lower lip. His cock is so dark Peter is starting to actually worry about his circulation, and it had never looked bigger.  


"Peter..." he whimpers.  


Peter lets go of Neal's wrist and strokes his hair. "What, Neal?" He says. "Tell me what you want."  


"I want to come, Peter, please, I'm so close. It hurts, Peter."  


"I know," Peter tells him tenderly. "You're so beautiful like this."  


Peter leans in to give Neal a deep, slow kiss. When he pulls back, he sees an actual tear of frustration leak out of Caffrey's half-lidded eye and run down his cheek. 

"Peter, please. Let me come."  


Peter thinks it over. "No," he decides.  


"God, Peter," Neal moans. When he looks into Peter's eyes, Peter thinks he could drown in those pupils, they are so wide and dark.  


Peter reaches down and carefully unlocks the cuffs, delicately running his fingers over the skin where they had left marks to see Neal gasp.  


"Peter! Careful!" Neal yelps, and Peter know that means "or I'll come after all." Evidently Caffrey is taking this seriously.  


"No is good, huh?" Peter observes.  


“Yes," Neal grates out. "Bastard."  


"Why do you beg if you want me to say no?" Peter asks, curious.  


“It's not that I don't want to come,” Neal explains as well as he can. “I want it to be your choice. I like that you said no because it means this isn't just a game. You're willing to make that call—and you know I'll obey it."  


"Should I be worried that I actually followed that?" Peter says.  


Neal laughs. "Maybe a little."  


Peter stands up from the bed and begins pulling on his clothes. "You can touch yourself all you like, but don't even think about getting off," he says. "Meanwhile, I am going to go home and fuck my lovely wife into the mattress, and it will make it so much sweeter knowing you are lying here aching for me."  


"Does Elizabeth know?" Neal asks, meaning that Peter is crossing the streams of their relationships, thinking about her while he's with Neal and vice versa.  


But Peter interprets his words differently. "Not yet," he says, "but I can't wait to tell her."  


Peter pauses at the door. "Keep your phone on," he says. "If she's up for it—I want you to listen when she comes."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Dotfic for the beta read, as always. All remaining errors are my own.
> 
> White Collar was created by Jeff Eastin and aired on the USA Network. No profit has been or will be generated by this transformative work.


End file.
